


Still Don't Fit

by accioserotonin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Oral, Restricted Movement, Smut, fem reader - Freeform, plus sized reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioserotonin/pseuds/accioserotonin
Summary: Your boyfriend’s clothes still don’t fit in the conventual sense, but boy does he love how you wear them.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Reader, Fred Weasley/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Still Don't Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to "Fit"

It had been weeks since the ill-fated morning in which you had attempted to sneak from Fred’s shared bedroom to Ginny’s in nothing but a well-worn flannel sheet (you had been both terribly embarrassed and extremely grateful that Mr. Weasley, who had the tact to bury his nose in a newspaper and feign ignorance, was the only one to catch you). Since then Fred had not been able escape the fantasy of you squeezed into his clothes, repeatedly bringing himself to completion with the image of it he had conjured in his mind. But for all that dreaming nothing could beat the real thing. 

You had managed to get the material of one of his shirts over your head, but were unable to lower your arms, the tight material forcing them to stick straight up, pressing against your ears. The rest of the shirt had bunched below your neck, leaving your breasts fully exposed as well as the majority of your stomach; Fred delighting in pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses across the exposed flesh, sucking, and nipping as he worshiped every inch. Occasionally he would trace over a particularly defined stretch mark with the tip of his tongue, causing you to squirm and moan in pleasure. 

On bottom you wore a pair of his stretchiest briefs, waistband digging into your stomach and causing it to bulge over, similar indents mirrored on your thighs. Impossibly wet, you had already completely soaked through them, Fred only adding to the mess by moving down to bury his face between your thighs, mouthing at you through the thin material. Though you so desperately wanted to thread your fingers through his fiery red hair, looking to anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure, you were helpless to do so, arms bound as they were. Instead you utilized what little mobility you had, hooking your legs over Fred’s broad shoulders, and grinding up against his eager mouth. 

His breath was hot against you as he groaned, “Fuck, Love, just like that.”

Everything was tightening, tensing, body ready to snap under your lovers ministrations when he abruptly pulled away, glistening mouth seeking out your own as he made quick work of his zipper; “I need to feel you.”


End file.
